


The Parting Glass

by theackles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 19th Century, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Despair, Desperation, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Historical, Homophobia, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, I Love You, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Prostitute Castiel, Sexual Abuse, Unrequited Love, Verbal Abuse, War, War of 1812, first historical fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theackles/pseuds/theackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a prostitute in the early 1800's. He meets Dean, a thief pretending to be something he's not. In a time of war, homophobia and illegal male prostitution, they cannot hide their love forever. Especially when an enemy is desperate to have Castiel for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I finally decided to give writing a historical fic a try. After reading so many of them (ahem, T&S, The Last Moonlight Serenade, 'Til the Last, many many others) I wanted to give my own a shot. I have all chapters already pre-written except for the last 5. I'm gonna aim for 15 chapters, that's what I plan to finish off with, but it may be less, it may be one or two more.
> 
> Copyright: Nothing in this story belongs to me. I have no OC's, and all the information on the war of 1812 came from Wikipedia (I know, untrustworthy but I'm really bad at research) so it may not be right.
> 
> \+ a BIG HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to my awesome friend Dani for helping me beta this and motivating me to continue this when I was feeling doubtful, giving me ideas when I could think of nothing, basically being awesome in general....all i'm saying is this story would probably be nothing without you.  
> \+ to miss_grey (the brilliant author of 'Til the Last everyone should go read it LITERALLY right now it's so amazing!) for basically inspiring me and offering to help me when I needed it. :)
> 
> This IS my first historical fic so the actual historical part is actually really bad. I can't write historical wars, I've learned, for crap.
> 
> I would really REALLY really REALLY appreciate some Kudos or comments. I love to make sure people are reading this and enjoying it. xox
> 
> ALSO, please know that the warnings listed above go for most of chapters. Smut warning. Well, hand jobs.

**February 12th, 1806**

‘Was another bland day in the brothel, he knew, when the door still continued to refuse to open. Jo kept giving Castiel a side-look, but Castiel wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he stole her scarf, soft and warm to keep him away from the bitter colds of the new winter months of 1806.

It was sometime in the middle of February, and the air still had that biting chill to it despite the sun beginning to stay up and burn brighter just a bit longer. The usual men came in, most of them waiting in line for the infamous Jo Harvelle, a woman with golden hair and dark eyes that sucked you in and trapped you. Castiel stood back, hidden by the brothel’s shadows while the men came and went, ignoring his attempts at calling them over with whistles and winks or a toss of the shimmery scarf over his shoulder.

The brothel was run by a woman named Ellen, who tucked every woman and occasional man under her wing like they were her own. Castiel liked her enough – she fed them and kept them clothed and away from the worse men lurking in the night. They all had a warm bed to sleep in at night and warm breakfast to wake up to. It was a good enough deal, and they even got paid for it. All they had to offer up was their bodies.

Castiel was one of very few men putting himself into prostitution. It was a last-chance thing. He’d lost everything he’d ever known, and he wanted to start anew, but he wasn’t the most literate boy out there. He had been, once upon a time, when his momma made him sit down at the table and read out the poetry, or another verse from the Bible. He kept his vocabulary sharp, until she died from the sickness, and he was thrown out on his own. He had no means, no real talent. Not until Ellen found him, wide blue eyes and messy black hair. She offered him warmth and security, if he put out his body. He would’ve been a fool to turn it down, so he didn’t.

In the end, he couldn’t deny that he liked it. Occasionally, a lone soldier would come in and take him up on his offers, or a woman having troubles with her husband or partner, and he’d make her feel good for the night. Sometimes they’d tip, just one or two shillings, but every small thing Castiel could get his hands on counted. Everything went towards a better day, a promotion to perhaps a courtesan. He’d leave the brothel behind one day, and move up a rank, giving his body to those who had more to give.

Jo was leading out one of her men when the door swung open. Castiel’s eyes left the small smudge on the hardwood floors and glanced up at the man walking in, dressed in loose-fitting cream colored trousers with a white shirt tucked in, held against his chest with dark suspenders. Castiel’s eyes wandered higher, and his breath hitched – open green eyes, green as the grass during spring, with brown hair askew on his head, brushing gently across his forehead.

Jo gave a flirty wink to him as she walked by, another man wrapped around her arm, but as she passed Castiel she gave him that look. The one he knew so well, but never acted on.

The man sat at the bar and Ellen served him, refilling his glass a few times until he sat with his finger drawing circles around the rim, back hunched over. Somewhere, Castiel got the confidence to walk closer, though his stomach clenched with anticipation – it’d been a while, with a man.

Castiel sat a seat away, giving the distance between them a chance, and played with Jo’s scarf still wrapped around his neck and smelling of her subtle perfume he grew to love.

Ellen purposefully ignored them, wandering off to rinse a few glasses with boiled water. Castiel knew she didn’t necessarily agree with his ways. Of course, a man longing another man the way he should a woman wasn’t a proper, true way of thinking. Castiel was raised for it to be a sin, that he should be damned to Hell for it, but not long after that first time when desperation overtook his rational thoughts and fears, he grew to love it, despite the sin that weighed on his soul now. Ellen simply turned a blind eye, not exactly agreeing with it but not telling him he’s a sinner already damned to the rack where his sins will be tortured from him. She ignored it, and as long as Castiel didn’t flaunt it and did his duties in private, she couldn’t care any less.

Castiel was finally tired of waiting – this pockets screamed that, empty and too light from the lack of coins. He stood and walked the short distance, prepared for the rejection. He tapped a tender hand to the man’s broad shoulders, and he glanced up, eyes doing a double take when he spotted Castiel. Black hair messy, blue eyes wide and innocent despite, and a scarlet, shimmery scarf wrapped around his bare neck.

“How about we grab a room?” Castiel’s voice was smooth like silk, warm and tempting, velvety soft. He ran his fingers down the man’s elbow, glancing at them and then back up to the man’s green eyes that were wide with the slight drink of alcohol – or maybe it had been Castiel himself. He would never know.

Castiel had many reasons to believe the man would brush him off, tell him no, go back to his business. But tonight needed a surprise, and the man gave a simple nod, face lightening with a gentle smile as he stood and tucked a few shillings beside the glass to pay for the drink.

Castiel’s heart was in his throat when the man led him up the staircase with a warm hand on the small of his back, bare and slightly chilly from the main room. Deep down, he wondered how good the money could be. Perhaps this man, green eyed and beautiful, would become a regular. Maybe he could finally get out. Castiel’s hands fumbled with the brass doorknob, and it squeaked under the pressure of his push. The rooms were never anything to be wide-eyed at. They weren’t the worst rooms, but they weren’t what courtesans would lay their men to bed with, either.

The sheets were soft enough – clean enough, when the man sat down on them, hands spread wide over his thighs as he watched with his green gaze as Castiel shut the door and sauntered over to him, twirling the scarf in the air simply out of habit, eyes hooded and dark as he approached his client.

He dropped to his knees slowly, mouth slightly open and hot breath coming out on every exhale.  Castiel hadn’t seen a sight like the one above him before – a freckled complexion on tanned skin, sharp cheekbones, lips pink and full and panting just like Castiel was. Normally the men that sauntered through here, sneaking their way inside Castiel or tossing in an extra shilling for it, were the older men who had a twisted mind. They were nothing to look at, nothing to pant over or saunter towards. The man above him was something to marvel at in comparison – Castiel would be damned before he let a moment during this go.

The man reached down and cupped Castiel’s jaw and guided him up to his feet. His hands were pulling on Castiel’s thighs next, pulling him to sit on the man’s lap. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but it seemed to make Castiel’s heart lurch in his chest despite.

“I’m Dean,” the man finally breathed, breath thick with hard alcohol.

Castiel let his name slip from his lips in a purr, tongue wet as it slid over his mouth in a tantalizing way, despite the threatening shakes of nervous fingers. “Castiel.”

Dean hummed in appreciation, and in the same moment, he pressed his mouth gently to Castiel’s. It was warm and slightly damp, welcoming and persuasive against Castiel’s own. Their tongues were hesitant and cautious at first, simply testing the harsh waters that they were about to enter. Castiel was the one to moan first – something soft and innocent that made Dean sigh beneath him.

Castiel broke apart and pushed Dean back on the mattress. He pulled his suspenders off his shoulders and untucked his shirt. He found the button holding his soft pants together and popped it out of the secure hole, hooking a finger beneath the fabric and tugging them down. Dean panted beneath him –  hard, steady breaths, hands reaching for the red sheets.

Dean’s cock came free, long and beginning to turn red from the tip down. Castiel grabbed the length of him, hands steady and educated in what he was doing, and gave a confident pump, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles over the head while Dean let out a hearty moan.

There was no mouths anymore, just the warmth of Castiel’s hand giving Dean the wants he came here for. His hand was large and hot and it only egged Dean further towards oblivion. His muscles clenched, thighs began to shake, and his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he gulped down whatever cry that might’ve gotten lodged when he twitched in Castiel’s hand and came all over his stomach and down the length of Castiel’s fingers, still working hard to bring him down from his high.

After a moment, when Dean went limp on the bed, Castiel pulled back and grabbed a cloth from one of the drawers to clean up. He was gentle with it on Dean’s oversensitive skin. After Castiel pulled up Dean’s trousers and rebuttoned them for him, Dean dug in his pockets and pulled out a few shillings – more than the occasional man would offer – and handed them in Castiel’s direction.

“A tip,” Dean mentioned, voice raw from the held back moans and lips swollen from the kiss.

Castiel held his hand out, palm up, and let Dean dump the three shillings in his hand. Castiel gazed at them, and then smiled politely. “Thank you, sir.”

“No, no ‘sir’,” Dean chuckles, eyes beginning to droop from the sedate after his climax. “I hear enough of that during the daytime.” He comments, and begins to stand, but he wobbles on his feet. Castiel is quick to place two hands on his chest to steady him.

“Maybe you should stay in the bed – rest up, leave in the morning. Ellen makes a delicious breakfast.”

Dean gazes at Castiel for a moment, and then nods. He sleeps in everything he’s wearing, including his shoes, on top of the red velvet blankets. Castiel disappears from the room after blowing out the candles that illuminated it, then disappeared into his own room. The night was late, and he had his own problem to rid himself of before he sat back down at the bar and waited for a possible client to walk through the doors in the early hours of the morning. He’d get his sleep when  it hit 3 AM. Until then, he’d count his shillings and follow Jo’s steps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to go ahead and post the second chapter because I'm trying to waste time while waiting for the new SPN episode and there's not much to do....so why not.
> 
> I'm SO SO SO thankful for the feedback I got on the first chapter, seriously, it made me scream every time someone commented and left kudos so those who did: THANK YOU THANK YOU! This story still has a lot to go so please keep leaving those amazing comments and kudos, they're definitely appreciated and I try to reply to every single one of them.
> 
> So here goes chapter 2 and ^^^^ comments and kudos motivate me a lot on a lot more than just the story lmao
> 
> ANOTHER SMUT WARNING GUYS (NOT) SORRY!

**February 15th, 1806**

It was raining the next time Castiel saw the green-eyed man named Dean. The sun had already set and was only faint hues of orange and dark blues mixed with the shimmering stars hidden behind the thick, dark clouds, now. Castiel took a post on the corner of a dusty road, just in front of an alley where he could tuck himself in the shadows if need be. Men with their carriages and horses gave him mean looks, and women would scoff when he tucked the scarf tighter around his neck when the wind blew. The thin linen shirt that clung to him was wet and the feathers of Jo’s scarf began to stick to his chest, and his hair lay flat against his head, dripping down his cheeks. He didn’t have very many clothes. When he was at the brothel, he kept his only shirt tucked away in one of the drawers in his bedroom. It didn’t do much to protect him from the harsh winds and the icy rain.

Castiel had given up trying to pull men or women back and purr temptations in their ears. The chill of the air was threatening to turn the droplets of cold rain into icy snow on his prickled skin. The scarf had lost it’s purpose 45 minutes ago, and now it only hung wet and cold against his skin. His shift didn’t end until  12 AM, though, so Ellen wasn’t expecting him back until then. If he showed any sooner, Ellen wouldn’t give him his full pay.

The road corner he stood at was a muddier one, with horses making steady walks down the roads and men with women on their arms walking along the sidewalks, perhaps coming from a saloon or party. Castiel stayed near the building at the corner, the candle lights from every few buildings down and the street lamp tucked slightly against the road being the only things illuminating the scene. The moon was hidden behind dark clouds as the rain continued to pour, but it seemed Castiel and the horses were the only ones with dripping hair and shivering skin.

He ducked under the shadows of the alley between two buildings when the officers strolled along, weary of being spotted. He’d heard of the too-many times Ellen had to bring Jo back to the brothel from being caught by the officers. They didn’t tolerate prostitutes wandering the streets or bothering the people of the city, day or night. They were considered a nuisance to the civilians, but Castiel couldn’t turn a cheek to any opportunity – he needed the coins far too badly.

Castiel stepped out of the shadows just after the officers disappeared from the crowd, and a lean body bumped into his. His heart jumped up his throat as he stumbled back, rambling apologies.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, I–”

The man laid a hand on his arm and Castiel took a moment to recognize the green eyes that shimmered down at him despite the darkness of the night. Castiel almost couldn’t recognize him, dressed in proper evening wear. Dean wore a coat with a long tail and a tall collar, with breeches meeting his Hessians. Castiel drank him in. Everything was tailored, to the very pull of his waist and the broad expanse of his shoulders. The only thing guarding him from the icy rain was his top hat. The water rolled off it like it resisted it’s touch, and it did the same to the velvet on his shoulders.

“What are you doing out here, Cas?” Dean’s voice was deep and rough. Castiel backed a few steps deeper into the shadows of the alley, coming away from the attention of the crowds.

“I’m trying to make a few extra shillings, sir,” Castiel’s fingers were numb when he fiddled with the hem of his shirt at his waist. It stuck to his skin like an outer layer, and it made him shiver.

Dean looked him up and down and sighed softly. In his eyes, Castiel could see him contemplating. Contemplating what, Castiel would never know. After a soft moment, only the soft rain hitting the roads, Dean softly grabbed Castiel’s elbow and nodded. “Alright, Cas. Come on.”

Castiel’s worn down Hessians splashed in the puddles as Dean lead him back towards the brothel, only a few buildings down. It was wooden and blended in well with the line of saloons and shops bordering the roads. They walked in the opposite direction of the crowds. Castiel noticed Dean tipping his head with his fingers on the edge of his hat when other gentlemen nodded to him, and then glanced confusedly down to Castiel who was shivering in barely any clothing. Dean’s palm was warm against Castiel’s shivering wet skin through linen, and it made Castiel push himself closer to the man.

Inside the brothel was only slightly warmer, just enough to take the chill away. Dean took off his top hat and hung it on the rack by the door. Another coat hung on one of the other hooks. Castiel assumed Jo had someone in her quarters – someone slightly richer by the embellishment on the material.

Ellen rounded the bar, a smile on her face to welcome a customer, but it turned into a frown when she saw Castiel. “Castiel,” she sighed, placing her rag on the wooden counter of the bar. “You aren’t supposed to be back until 12.” She noticed Dean then, dressed fancily and still holding Castiel near. Castiel couldn’t form a coherent response, because now that he was beginning to get feeling back in his nerves from the warmth, his teeth began to chatter.

Ellen nodded, “Of course.” She sent Dean a small smile, then disappeared back behind the bar.

“You’re going to get sick,” Dean commented as he guided Castiel up the same stairs as he had three nights ago. Castiel shivered by his side as Dean turned the brass knob and opened the room. Dean stepped forward and pulled at the ends of Castiel’s shirt, now stuck to his skin and icy cold.

Castiel watched him with careful blue eyes, keeping his jaw clenched so the chatter of his teeth didn’t disrupt the peaceful silence of the room. Dean was gentle with his shirt and folded it over despite it dripping rainwater. He was even careful with the scarf, wrapping it in loops and not making a comment about it. The cold bumps on Castiel’s skin were visible and Castiel rubbed his arms, willing them to go away. He was supposed to be caring for Dean – not the other way around.

“I’m f-fine,” Castiel chattered, hair dripping water into his eyes.

Dean gave a small smile and shrugged out of his coat. He laid it over Castiel’s pale shoulders and buttoned one of the single buttons. “You can’t even talk properly.” Dean said, matter-of-factly. “We’ll get to it later. Right now, I want to make sure you’re not going to get sickly with a fever.” Castiel heard him mumble as he strode off, eyes searching. In one of the drawers of the dresser against the back wall, he found a towel.

He dried off Castiel’s hair and ran it down his arms, picking up any loose droplets of water until Castiel’s shivering died down to only a few.

Dean’s coat was warm against Castiel’s skin, warmed by Dean’s hot, naturally tan skin that seemed immune to the cold. On the inside of the coat was a warm silk, and the outside was thick to protect him from the harsh weathers of outside. Inwardly Castiel wondered just how much Dean had to give for a luxurious coat like this, but he didn’t ask. He couldn’t deny the pleasant feeling in his gut from the comfort of someone warming him, caring for him. For once, it seemed, someone reached out to make him feel better. Deep down, something told him not to expect it for long, but he couldn’t help it. It made the butterflies swarm, and that he didn’t want to ignore.

Castiel let his eyes fall shut as he controlled the last of his body’s shivers, and finally, there was no trace of the cold left in his body – only Dean’s warmth.

“Thank you, sir,” Castiel said quietly, peeling his heavy eyes open to look up at Dean through thick lashes. Dean was a few inches taller than Castiel; much more broader, thicker, more capable. Dean’s eyes glowed in the candle light.

“No ‘sir’.” He corrected. “Just call me Dean, Cas.”

Castiel worked a hard gulp down his throat. “You keep calling me that – Cas,”

Dean smiled and suddenly he was slightly closer, but it didn’t bother Castiel. Dean seemed to be one of the only – or, perhaps, the only client that could stand near Castiel without giving him an unpleasant shiver down his spine. “Is that okay?”

Castiel nodded, quickly, eyes averting to a glare on the wood floors from the candles. “Of course it is.” Maybe if he agreed, Dean would offer up another tip at the end of this session. But Castiel couldn’t lie to himself. It warmed him inside to be given something so simple, something that belonged him – even if it was as silly as a nickname.

“Are you warm now?” Dean asked. Castiel turned his eyes back up to Dean with a nod.

“I’d like to…” Castiel begun, then he unbuttoned Dean’s coat from his waist and laid it gently on the bed near them. He reached a hand out and tucked his fingers just under the hem of Dean’s breeches. “I’d like to make you feel warm, too.” His voice was quiet, but seemed loud in the quiet of the night, despite the pitter patter of the rain against the roof.

Castiel could hear Dean’s breath hitch in his throat just before he nodded. Heat and a swarm of butterflies erupt in the pit of his stomach. He led Dean over towards the bed and pushed him back. Just like the days prior, he unbuttoned the breeches and pulled them down.

He spit into his own hand and wrapped it around Dean’s base a second time, giving it a generous thrust up. Dean’s moan caught in his throat and came out in a soft, “Cas…” that made Castiel’s damp trousers tighten slightly. He continued the pumps of his hand, up and down, and occasionally he’d twist and run the pad of his thumb around the soft head. “Hell.” Dean groaned, and it made Castiel’s stomach flutter with the wings of butterflies.

Castiel leaned forward when Dean’s eyes fell shut and flattened his tongue against the underside of Dean’s shaft. It was hot and soft but somehow rock solid beneath his tongue all at once. Dean’s hips bucked and Castiel welcomed him into his mouth with a soft moan, vibrating down his throat and down Dean’s cock.

A warm, large hand threaded through his hair and massaged his scalp as he hollowed out his cheeks and took him as far as he could down his throat. He hadn’t given many of these, but Jo made sure to give him plenty of tips for when he did. She always seemed to know just how to do it.

His hand drifted down and massaged his balls in his palm, and Dean’s moan hitched in his throat once more as he came, spurts of hot, salty liquid escaping down Castiel’s throat as he swallowed around it. He pulled off with a gasp as he regained his breath, and within the next moment, Dean was sitting upright and cupping Castiel’s jaw in the palm of his hand. Dean guided him up and pressed his hot mouth to Castiel’s, despite his own taste, and ran his hands over Castiel’s sides.

Castiel had never been naked but one time in front of another man, and when he had it had been exotic and made his heart hammer in his chest with adrenaline. Their clothes and boots made a nice pile beside of the bed, and Dean hadn’t seemed to care when his nicer clothes fell to the ground with Castiel’s hand-me-down rags. Dean was beautiful in the dim candle light – skin tanned and eyes hooded, lips swollen and wet.

Dean’s eyes traveled up and down Castiel’s bare body. It was pale with the winter months, and a bit thin. Dean threaded a hand through Castiel’s and pulled him down on the bed beside of him, and Castiel’s breath was sharp with every inhale and hard with every exhale. He wasn’t sure what Dean was doing, until his hand wrapped around Castiel’s own cock and gave him a light squeeze.

Castiel’s vision blurred and his eyes rolled back into his head. A soft, hitched moan escaped his throat and his hips involuntarily thrusted up into Dean’s gentle grip. The heat of his hand seemed to resonate throughout his entire body, and Castiel leaned into the touch.

Dean’s voice was nothing more than a soft whisper. “You don’t get this very often, do you?” He gave Castiel’s cock another soft pump, and his thumb ran around the head. It was too gentle, too careful. Castiel liked it too much – liked Dean too much, too soon.

“No,” Castiel forced out of his tightened throat. “I’m only here to make my clients feel good. It’s not usually in the business to return the favor.” He admitted, voice tight and strained.

Dean hummed in acknowledgement. Castiel felt Dean’s lips press to his, his wet tongue lining Castiel’s lips. Castiel opened his mouth and let their tongues clash as Dean gave another steady pump of his fist. “What made you wanna be this?”

Castiel had a hard time opening his eyes through the sensations Dean’s hand sent through his body. He frowned slightly, “Be what?” He moaned, just as Dean gave another gentle squeeze. As Castiel’s eyes fell shut once more, his stomach beginning to heat, he moaned and realized. “Oh, a harlot.” His head fell gently against the pillows as Dean quickened his pace, and his answer got lost in his throat when his hips started meeting Dean’s pumps. His face contorted and he let out a cry as his vision bursted into stars, come spurting out, hot and white against his and Dean’s stomachs. Dean slowed his pace until Castiel’s cock went limp in his hands, then he pressed his hand against Castiel’s bare stomach.

“I’ve always been this,” Castiel finally found the words to answer after a few moments. “Ellen took me under her wing a long time ago.” He opened his heavy eyes to meet Dean’s curious, concentrating gaze. “I enjoy it.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever understand how you could enjoy giving your body to complete strangers.” Dean said quietly, and Castiel felt something inside of him burn with anger – sour anger that killed all the turns of butterflies in his stomach.

He clenched his teeth and glared. “If I didn’t, we wouldn’t be here, would we?” He sat up, and Dean frowned from below him. “Some things are better left off not understood, don’t you think?” He quipped, reaching down to find his tossed trousers.

Dean touched Castiel’s elbow with a soft sigh. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean it like that, Cas.” His voice was quiet and regretful. It made something inside Castiel pull. He wanted to shake his head and admit how stupid he was to be angry at such a comment – he should have expected at least one. But he couldn’t. Perhaps that was his stubborn father in him.

“I don’t like that nickname, and I would appreciate it if you refrained from using it.” Castiel snapped, finally grabbing his trousers and slipping them on over his legs. The wet material was hard to pull up, but he managed it somehow, and buttoned it. It was cold against his heated skin, still hot from his climax, but it cooled him quickly and a shiver rippled through him.

Dean sat up as Castiel stood, a frown etched into every piece of his face. Castiel hated the way it aged him, and wished it would go away. “I’m sorry.”

“Please, Dean,” Castiel worked down a hard swallow. “Leave.”

Castiel felt something inside of him shake when Dean didn’t give up, nude and vulnerable in one of Castiel’s rooms. Castiel inwardly cursed himself. How did he let friendly green eyes pull him into feeling something? Or begin to? He should have never let Dean touch him. He felt sick.

“I didn’t mean to hit something so close to home, Cas – Castiel.”

Castiel’s shoulder slumped in defeat, and he wiped at his tired eyes. “I know.” He mumbled, and kicked at nothing with his toe. “You don’t even have to pay me. I’d like to be alone now.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, lips pursed, and stood. Castiel turned his back and started clearing the sheets from the bed as Dean dressed himself, come still covering his stomach. As Castiel folded the soiled sheets, Dean held out his hand, a small pile of shillings in his palm.

Castiel took it without much of a word, and tucked it into the pocket of his trousers. Dean left with a soft smile, eyes apologetic in the dim light. Castiel’s stomach twisted as the door squeaked shut, and for a moment all seemed lost.

Castiel felt raw, like he'd given away something special. The same feeling of rawness, he remembered, like the time when he gave away his virginity to his first client all those years ago. He wasn’t sure how to recover, but a lukewarm bath seemed like the first step to forgetting the whole night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you're here I'm hoping the second chapter wasn't too awful either?
> 
> When writing this I felt like I was going really fast but I find it way too hard to have a slow story, no matter what I do something happens fast, so this all came naturally and yeah....
> 
> Please drop a comment and maybe a kudos and tell me what you thought of the second chapter and your opinions!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post every tuesday, but i couldn't resist the urge because i'm so flippin' bored SO here you go! This is sort of a filler chapter, but opinions on it would still be very appreciated! Tell me what you think in detail, or not, whichever, I love comments and kudos in general.
> 
> :D
> 
> ALSO go check out the playlist my friend Dani made for it at https://8tracks.com/embedded-headphones/the-parting-glass
> 
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! :)

**February 23, 1806**

Castiel doesn’t have nightmares often, but tonight was different, and the vivid dreams plagued him throughout the night. He woke up sweaty, tangled in the sheets of his quarters, and when he opened his eyes, the memories – the vivid scenes from the wretched nightmare – disappeared. He couldn’t even remember it, and he didn’t realize he was crying until he sat up and a few lukewarm tears dripped off his chin and onto his palms.

He draws cold water and sponges himself down, body aching from a bad night’s sleep and the client from the day before. His mind was still recovering from the raw night of Dean, one week ago, but he’d done his best to forget what could’ve been and what shouldn’t be. He was okay now – or he was getting there. Either way, he would recover, or be recovered in the end.

The sponge bath wasn’t anything nice. It only tightened his muscles more and made him shiver as the light of dawn began to peek through the windows. He pulled on the worn clothes from his dresser and slipped on his Hessians. He could smell Ellen’s breakfast cooking from the second floor, and it made his stomach rumble with hunger.

During the breakfast, Jo twirled around in a new scarf with a white smile on her face and her golden hair falling in beautifully natural curls. Sometimes, Castiel envied her beauty and her personality.

It was Sunday, and by Ellen’s rules, Jo and Castiel should get out of the brothel on Sundays and enjoy themselves in the town. Castiel was the most literate prostitute in the brothel, and Jo wanted to learn everything he knew, so he promised her every Sunday to read with her in the park. Castiel had a copy of Candide, one of the only books he owned. It was run down and falling apart. It smelled musty and sour, but he read what he could from it.

“In….uttering these words,” Jo read from the book, the tip of her nail sliding across the underside of the words as she spoke, “he drew out a long...pon...po –” She sighed, giving Castiel one of her side-looks. “I can’t do that word. I don’t know it.”

Castiel gave her a soft smile. “Just skip it if you don’t know it. You’re doing very well, Jo.”

Jo blushed and hid her smile in the shimmery blue scarf she found at one of the charities. Castiel thought it fit her well, bringing out the pinks in her skin and the dark greens in her eyes.

As Jo continued to read, words chopped and uncertain, Castiel let his eyes wander across the park. Children played, pets wandered, the bare trees swayed slightly with the winter wind. A soft chill rippled through Castiel’s thin clothes and he sighed. The sky was a chilled gray today, with a few wispy, white clouds hovering around. Sometimes snow would fall, only briefly.

Jo was finishing a sentence with a proud smile on her face when Castiel’s eyes caught green from across the way. Castiel’s breath hitched in his throat, and like pulling healing stitches from a sore wound, Castiel felt himself open up.

Dean was dressed impeccably, like the night it rained. Like the night it rained – the very night Castiel was still attempting to erase from his memories. Dark breeches and a dark coat to match. His eyes wandered across Castiel, then over to Jo, who caught Castiel’s gaze and frowned.

“Isn’t that the man that’s seen you twice already?” Jo asked quietly, quieter than the soft whistle of the wind.

Castiel nodded once, “Yes. But our business relationship ended as quickly as it started.”

Jo rolled her eyes and nudged Castiel. “Mom said he pulled you in from the rain, said you might get sick.”

Castiel thumbed a page of his book and avoided glancing up, even knowing he was still standing there. Still looking. “Yes. He did. But only once.”

“Most men won’t do that for most of us – especially when we’re on corner-duty, and you know it, Castiel.” She stated, matter-of-factly. “Maybe he likes you.”

Castiel scoffed quietly and shook his head. His eyes flicked slightly upward like magnets attracted to the sight of Dean, only for the shortest second. Dean was still standing there, now in conversation with one of the elder, richer men in the city. His eyes flicked over and met Castiel’s, just in time for them to drop back towards the words on the pages of the book. “No man like him would ever have any feelings other than lust and ravenous sexual desires towards a street-walker, male prostitute like me. I’m nothing but dirt compared to where he stands. Not to mention what sort of mess he would put himself in with the officers.”

Jo nudges Castiel softly with a sigh. “I know that’s how most of ‘em look, Castiel. But there are some out there. Maybe he’s the one.”

“It’s stupid of you to think that, Jo,” Castiel snapped. “He doesn’t know what he’d be getting himself into, and I don’t want that. I’m not looking for that. I’m fine with where I am in society, and I’m happy with it. I don’t need some literate, proper, rich man to show me a better way.” His thumb ripped the edge of the page and he groans. “I’ve ripped the page,” he mutters, and shakes his head. “I want to leave.”

“Look, Castiel –” Jo stands as Castiel does. She takes the book from his hands and shuts it gently. “Just. Don’t shut off the opportunity if one stands. Don’t shut yourself away from happiness, because the brothel?” Jo scoffs slightly. “That’s not all there is. Not for me. Definitely not for you.”

Castiel isn’t sure what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all, and glances back over to where Dean stood. The spot is empty, and somewhere inside Castiel something cracks, and crumbles, rips. Like the corner of his page.

–

When Castiel was a child, he remembered, his mother would call him in for supper. His family was part of the well-off class, some of the very few who had money to their name. They had money to boil water for weekly baths, and had good meals. His momma stayed at home and cared for him and his sister, Anna, while his dad was  big in an industry Castiel never grew old enough to understand. Castiel liked to think that maybe he was a doctor, or someone who simply helped people.

It was the summer of 1793 that yellow fever took his family away from him. He wasn’t sure how he survived, or how he got away unscathed, but he did. God let him live, but took his mother, father, and younger sister Anna in return. It was a cold winter that year. Castiel spent the last bit of shillings he could get his hands on on food and decent clothing to put on his back. He was only 6, but he learned fast.

He was on his own until he turned 12, when he found Ellen. He’d wandered far and wide, searching for a new home, or somewhere not as brutal as the last. He’d grown a tough skin, but he was still vulnerable. Vulnerable enough to take a strange woman’s offer to live at a brothel, for a price of his body.

That vulnerability never left him – he knew that. Perhaps that’s what made men and women alike come towards him. Perhaps it was the blue eyes, wide and open and innocent, or the pale skin that looked like the porcelain dolls sitting inside the shop windows, flawless and eternally beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're seeing this I hope it was okay! Please tell me what you think of it below :)  
> also talk to me only tumblr http://jensensperkynipples.tumblr.com/ because i'm really bored and need more people to talk to!
> 
> Kudos and comments are loved <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the fourth chapter!
> 
> I just want to throw out there:
> 
> WARNING: it's not exactly rape but it's on the edge. There's some slight abuse here.
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for all the lovely comments! I enjoyed them all sosoososos much!!! Please feel free to leave even more on this chapter and kudos as well! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and tells me about it afterwards?!

**February 24th, 1806**

When the doors to the brothel chimed open, Castiel wouldn’t deny that his blue gaze flicked up in hopes to see the familiar green ones. That isn’t what he got, however. Instead, his blue gaze was met with icier blue-gray ones, hooded and dark. They met Castiel’s instantly, and Castiel felt a small shiver down his spine.

Ellen greeted him with a smile, “Can I get anything for ya?”

“No, no…” the man’s voice came out in  a soft hiss, “Not you.” He raised a finger, pointing in Castiel’s direction. He turned it upright and crooked it, “But you can, however.”

The man was tall, lanky, but built. His shoulders were slouched and clad in an embroidered coat, matching with his breeches and the layered tufts of his shirt from between the coat. His hair was short, and his tongue sat slightly on his bottom lip as he ticked – small noises that he synchronized with soft shakes of his head as Castiel walked over.

“How much?” His eyes raked down Castiel’s body, once, twice. Castiel shivered in his boots, skin prickling with nerves under the strange man’s gaze. Castiel had never seen him around town before.

Castiel cleared his throat, “Depends.” He kept his voice steady, though his body wanted to curl in on itself and hide under Jo’s scarf. The man hummed and grabbed Castiel’s elbow – Castiel will never forget how cold the man’s hands are. The sent harsh chills up Castiel’s arm, and he forced back the gasp of it. “This way…” he forced out, and began leading the man up the stairs.

Stepping over the threshold of the room sent his stomach in a fit, turning over and over with nerves, never ending. The man rid himself of his coat, and slowly began unbuttoning his white linen shirt. “On the bed,” he demanded, voice having no room for play.

Castiel’s back stiffened as he began towards the bed, but the man’s slurred voice stopped him. “After – after you rid yourself of clothing. All of it, except for the scarf.”

Ever since Castiel had stolen Jo’s scarlet scarf, he’d never wanted to take it off. It smelled of her, smelled like home and like it’d protect him from any danger. This was the only time he ever wished he’d left it on his dresser.

Soon, Castiel was nude, except for the scarf, which tickled across his jutted hipbones. The scarlet brought out the flush of nerves in his skin as he laid on the bed, waiting for the stranger. The bed was no longer slightly comfortable, and the soft red sheets were no longer warm. They were hot – far too hot, far too itchy, uncomfortable against Castiel’s trembling skin.

The candlelight flickered in every corner of the room, and for the first time, it didn’t calm him. The feeling in his gut made him want to run – made his toes twitch with anticipation.

“On your front, boy,” the man slurred, almost a hiss of a snake as he grabbed Castiel roughly by the elbow and turned him over. Castiel felt the ache of the man’s fingertips pressed into his skin, and he knew already that there would be dark marks in their place.

The man spread him wide and pressed the tip of himself at Castiel’s entrance.

Castiel felt the words clog up his throat before he could spit them out, “Don’t you think we should –” prepare was cut off with a sharp, moaned cry as the man pushed in, less than gentle. Hands grabbed the ends of Castiel’s soft scarf and pulled, tightly wrapping the soft feathers around Castiel’s throat.

The rope at the scarves center cut past the feathers and dug into the skin on Castiel’s neck, and he gasped and moaned at the burn of it. It hurt, and the stretch of the man’s cock, relentless inside of him and going at him like a pure piece of meat sent sharp burning pains up Castiel’s back.

When Castiel let out a strangled cry, biting his lips hard to keep it at bay, the man groaned above him and pulled the scarf tighter his neck. “Every little one of you harlots love breath play, and I always knew it,” he growled, deep and slurred above Castiel.

Castiel’s nails dug deep into the sheets when the man finally slowed, emptying himself inside of him, and finally pulled out. Castiel collapsed to the pillow with a gasp of pure air. The scarf was too hot, too itchy, but his body was so shaky and weak he couldn’t fight it off himself.

Coins were thrown to the floor next, a clatter of metal on hardwood as the man began to leave. “There’s your pay, whore,”

The door shut harshly behind him, and Castiel finally felt the tears begin to slip from his eyes at the burn of his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop a comment and a kudos below! They're always appreciated!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got off work, figured three days was enough, so I'm gonna post!! I think I'm more excited for this than most readers are....but oh well! It's fun :)
> 
> Thank you so much for all the feedback so far!

**February 25th, 1806**

It was another two days before Castiel saw green again. Dean walked into the brothel with a look of determination, and Castiel sat in his usual spot in the back with his scarlet, shimmery scarf wrapped around his neck to shield from the chillier winds that wafted through the doors. He almost couldn’t bring himself to wear it after the day before, but it was the only thing he had against the bite of cold. His back was bare otherwise, and all he had on was his breeches and his Hessions – his usual brothel attire.

Dean walked up to him and held out his hand, a small pile of coins laying in a small mound in his large palm. “I just wanna talk, Cas.”

Castiel felt something inside of him disconnect, then reconnect in a new way. He pursed his lips with a soft frown and nodded, letting Dean drop the coins in the palm of Castiel’s hand before leading them up to the usual room.

The room didn’t sit the same way on his stomach now. The sheets looked sinful, and every aching muscle in his body protested at the memory. He tried to shove them back with a hard swallow and a squeeze of his eyes, but the pains were still there. They would be.

The candles flickered in every corner as Dean quietly shut the creaky door behind him. “It’s going to sound absolutely ridiculous…” Dean laughed, shaking and bowing his head to stare at the almost unscuffed Hessions on his feet. Castiel stood a few feet away, quiet with his arms crossed protectively over his bare chest.

“You paid for it, so I’m all ears, Dean.” Castiel stated quietly, coins burning through him in his pocket. His next outdoor meal, or his next shirt. What the man from the day prior had given him had only been enough shillings for some bread.

Dean looked at Castiel with wide, green eyes, pink mouth slightly open as he continued. “I’ve felt like complete shit since that last day, Cas.” He admitted, letting out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know why, but, I can’t get you outta my head. You’re constantly there. I’m constantly worrying about you. And it’s so goddamned stupid, you know?” Dean let out a harsh laugh, and Castiel felt an evil warmth creep up the back of his neck and in his gut. “Why should I be worried about you? Just because of that one night when you were caught in the rain. You’re just...you’re just a prostitute, and I shouldn’t care.”

Castiel felt the tears build up in his eyes, and he stared down at his feet. “Forgive me,” he croaked, “But, I don’t believe I understand the point of any of this.”

Dean shook his head, hopelessly. “I don’t think I do, either, Cas.” He muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “Just...you can keep the coins. I don’t really need ‘em. That’s all I wanted to say.”

And just like that – Dean left, shutting the creaking door behind him.

Castiel felt numb standing in the middle of the room, shillings heavy in his pocket, feet stuck to the floor. He felt heavy, weighed down by some silly emotion he couldn’t put his finger on. Dean had been the only man to really treat him like a human being, and he was leaving. He was icy cold on the inside, until his feet carried him to the top of this stairs where he found Dean halfway down them. “Dean –” He gasped out; the rest seemed to get caught.

Dean turned, frown lines aging him as he stared up at Cas.

He cleared his throat, softly. “You didn’t get what you paid for.” He finished, voice more solid and steady. Dean’s frown turned to confusion, and slowly, he made his way back up the stairs until Castiel could reach out and touch him, pull him back towards the room.

“What are we doing, Cas?” Dean mumbled, as Cas leaned up and kissed him gently on the mouth.

“I’m doing my job.” Castiel answered, serious but quiet. “Take your clothes off, please.” His heart was hammering so hard in his chest, he could hear it louder than the words he spoke.

He watched for a moment as Dean unbuttoned his coat with uncertainty, before turning around and beginning to shed himself of his own clothes.  Compared to Dean’s, they were nothing but used, thin rags that were only once shirts and breeches. They all ended up in the same pile on the floor, and both men ended up side by side, facing each other, hands just drifting over skin.

Dean kissed Castiel softly, hand cupping his jaw and softly pulling him closer until Dean hovered just slightly above him.

“Cas…” Dean breathed through the kiss. “I can’t get you outta my head.”

Their tongues swept across each other, soft and pliant and warm. Their breath mixed and it was like their own pocket of each other, inhaling each other’s breath, tasting each other’s skin, feeling each other’s heat.

“Good thing I can’t get you out of mine either,” Cas finally admitted, heart hammering in his chest and something tight in his gut when the words finally left his mouth. He ran his hands along Dean’s back as Dean pulled him closer, and the ache he felt in his cock was bordering unbearable. He moaned when Dean’s cock brushed his own. “Want you...against me,”

Something inside Castiel shifted – his inner thoughts wondered if the touch of Dean would exstinguish the hard ache of the abuse from the evening before. Perhaps his gentler touches would soften the bruises away, making him forget of the slurring words and hissed moans, and the constricted rope around his neck.

Dean let one leg shift over Castiel’s hips until they brushed against each other, hot and hard but soft, all the same. It felt so foreign, but so welcoming, and Castiel couldn’t know where to begin on understanding it.

They brushed, and pulled, and Dean pumped Castiel’s cock in his hand while Castiel worked on Dean’s. Castiel’s legs locked around Dean’s hips as he moaned, quiet and innocent in Dean’s ear. “God…” Dean shook his head above Cas as he kissed his mouth, wetly. “Haven’t told you how beautiful you are. You’re so goddamned beautiful.”

Castiel tightened and twitched in Dean’s hand with a cry, and Dean quickened his pumps and trailed kisses along Castiel’s rough jaw, covered in dark stubble. Cas came over their stomachs, knees tightening around Dean’s hips as his hands gave two last pulls on Dean’s cock before Dean came right after him.

They were sweaty and sticky, and breathless, but relaxed and comfortable. The ache ceased, if only a little, but it was enough to give Castiel a soft smile on his face. Dean fell to the spot close beside Cas, and wrapped his arms around his waist. Their chests and stomachs were slick against each other, but neither of them cared. Castiel found himself drawing small shapes in Dean’s skin with a sated smile on his face at finally giving in – finally caving into that hard, tight, wrong feeling he’d felt since he told Dean to leave.

“You know,” Cas sighed against Dean’s chest. “I don’t even know your last name.”

Dean chuckled into Cas’s hair, “Winchester. Dean Winchester.” He kissed the skin at Cas’s hairline and nudged him with his nose, inhaling the scent of sex and Cas and Dean, mixed. “What’s yours?”

“Milton.” Cas hummed, “But I haven’t used my last name in a long time.” Of course – as soon as he’d lost them, he had no real use for a last name. Not when Ellen found him. Men and women that wanted sex didn’t care about last names. Not until this very moment, at least.

They sat in silence for a while, just breathing and clutching and thinking. Castiel even began to doze at one point, until Dean began to speak quietly into his hair.

“What I said, Cas...I didn’t mean it. You’re not just some prostitute, okay? So don’t take it like that. I just...I didn’t know how to say it, and it came out the wrong way.”

“So say it the right way,” Castiel demanded softly. “Please.”

“I don’t know how to.” Dean whispered, shaking his head. “I don’t know what this is – what we are. I’ll be honest with you, Cas. Before that first night, when I walked in, I’d never stepped foot in another brothel.”

“Never?” Castiel looked up, eyes curious and eyebrows drawn in.

Dean shook his head. “Never. I don’t know what made me go in there. I don’t really remember what I was thinking, but I didn’t want to go into any of the saloons or cafes. Everyone knew me there, kept calling me sir and wanted me to drink brandy’s with ‘em. Maybe I walked in here because I didn’t know what it was, and I needed something new.” His eyes drift off to somewhere, somewhere not here as he shrugs. “I don’t know Cas, but the minute I saw you….” he laughs almost bitterly. “I knew I was done for.”

Castiel is quiet a moment, until the words break through his pursed lips. “It’s a sin, you know.”

Dean sighed into Castiel’s hair. “I know, but I don’t really care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments below! Maybe what you'd like to see.....?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm snowed in so I decided to post another chapter. :) On the side I think I'm gonna start another story, but I'm stuck between AOB dynamics, witches, or something else I haven't decided. But anyways! Enjoy!

**March 25th, 1806**

One month passed and they fell into a routine. Dean would come in from wherever he was and fold coins into Castiel’s palm. Castiel would touch him, hands roaming, squeezing, making him moan and come, and Dean would repay the offer. They’d lay there, sun going down and candles the only thing illuminating the dark room. Dean would pull Cas into his chest, and Cas would draw strange shapes into Dean’s chest.

Sometimes they would talk, most times they’d just drink in each other’s silence, and appreciate it before the sun would rise and pull them apart again.

Castiel told him hushed secrets about his parent’s sickness. He told him stories about how his father was demanding – a righteous man who was a preacher at a church on Sundays.

“He told me of all the sins I could commit,” Castiel spoke with a certain hesitance, but the only  thing that kept him speaking was the soft breaths against his neck and the smooth circles Dean’s finger rubbed into his chest. “He told me that if I ever committed one – even a single one, that God would put me on the rack in one of the deepest pits in Hell for Lucifer to cut all my sins out of me, so I could be reborn as a pure soul once more.” Castiel let out a small, bitter laugh. “Sometimes I wonder how many years on that rack I’ll have to stay, to be purified of my sins.”

“I’ll be down there, right beside you,” Dean stated, quiet but serious. “You know, I’m not a rich man.”

Castiel frowned and his eyebrows pulled in with confusion. “But, how–”

“I’m a thief,” Dean admitted, eyes looking up to peer at Castiel through thick eyelashes. His eyes searched Cas’s, waiting for a reaction, but he didn’t get one. “You don’t seem to be angry.”

Castiel’s frowned didn’t lighten. “How could I be? I’m a prostitute. Hardly someone to be judging in this situation, don’t you think?”

Dean rolled his eyes and let his head relax against Castiel’s beating heart. “You’re too good for all this, Cas. You’re too beautiful. You should be out galavanting with the rich folk, drinking brandies in the best attire anyone could ever make, living in a house with a bathtub, with a maid to run hot water.”

Castiel smiled, sadly, as the faded memories of his family’s wealth flashed before his eyes. “I could have been.” He sighed, feeling the sadness seep into his stomach. “My family was very wealthy. They pampered me and my younger sister, Anna, like we were royals. I didn’t know nor understand just how bad it could be...how good we had it, until I saw them all get sick.”

His voice got thick with tears as he remembered. Dean glanced up and frowned at the sight, a small ache in his chest at Cas trying to blink away his tears. “Hey, hey.” He whispered, reaching a hand up to brush away the unfallen tears from under his red-rimmed, vivid blue eyes. “You don’t gotta talk about it.”

Castiel shrugged and leaned into Dean’s touch. “I want to.”

Dean simply nodded and continued the soft touches to Castiel’s cheek as he continued his story.

“The doctors didn’t know what was happening. They never got better. Finally the fever took them, and they couldn’t fight it anymore. It was in 1793. I don’t know how I got out of there...but I did, and I ran. The orphanages were relentless and I didn’t want to be the poor, rich boy thrown in there. Somehow I thought running away would better my odds than letting them get their hands on mine and my family’s wealth. Perhaps I didn’t make the correct decision.”

Dean brushed away his tears, and only smiled reassuringly when Castiel finally fought past the burn to look down at Dean. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “My, uh…” he cleared his throat and looked away. “I lost my little brother to it, too. Was only 3.” When his eyes flicked back over to Castiel’s, they were red and bloodshot, glassy with tears.

“You don’t have to answer...what happened to your parents?” Castiel asked quietly, reaching down to brush Dean’s first tear away.

Dean shrugged. “Dad was an alcoholic. We were never very wealthy. After Sammy died, when I was old enough to finally carry my own, I only stayed for mom. She, um, she died in a house fire. We lost everything. All we had to our names were the clothes on our back and Dad’s colt. He took his own life when I was 14, and I’ve kinda been roamin’ ever since.”

Castiel shook his head, tears gliding down his cheeks for Dean’s pain, now. Dean’s face contorted with the memories and he squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling like a stream down his cheeks as he fought to wipe them away.

Castiel never thought so much could happen in a month. Fate had proved him wrong, though. Somehow Dean pulled him through the rough days, with freckled smiles and green eyes. Castiel could stare at him for hours, or years if he had the opportunity.

The unnamed man with icy blue eyes also had a routine with Castiel. It made Castiel tense and quiver in fear. It seemed on the days Dean was absent, the man would show. He never paid more than 4 shillings, and Castiel found that he was gaining more bruises than he could heal within the time he saw the man again.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Dean’s soft voice broke the silence of another night spent together, and pulled Castiel from his wandering thoughts. Castiel shook his head and offered a small smile, blue eyes twinkling with the candlelight. Castiel had one leg slightly hitched over Dean’s hip, with one of Dean’s arms encircled around his waist, holding him close.

“Nothing,” Castiel replied quietly. “I’m not really thinking of anything.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgement and nodded, cupping Cas’s jaw with a gentle hand. He pulled him up until their mouths touched, breath mixing.  “What would you say if I told you I wanted to take you out?” Dean asked quietly into Cas’s mouth, one hand tucking his growing black hair behind his ear.

Castiel gave a small laugh. “Don’t be foolish.”

“I’m serious.” Dean propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Castiel’s face, wide blue eyes curious and bright. “You deserve it. You’re pinned in here for too long.” He gestured around to the dimly lit room. Castiel followed his hands and let out a small sigh.

“What would your rich friends think?” Castiel attempted to joke, but the serious undertone was still there.

Dean rolled his eyes and took back his place beside of Castiel. “None of them are my friends, Cas.” He muttered. “They don’t even know me, aside from my name.”

Castiel let a small smile break through the night. “Does anyone?”

Dean’s eyes fell to Castiel, and he pressed a soft kiss to his head. “You do.” The words were nothing more than a mute whisper, but Castiel could hear them like a shout in dead silence. He gulped down whatever it was threatening to climb up his throat – words, emotions, something – and hugged Dean tighter.

“You, too, you know.” He mumbled a reply into Dean’s chest, and sighed against his hot skin. “We could get in trouble – a lot of trouble.”

Dean shrugged, “Trouble doesn’t bother me none.”

Castiel didn’t say a word. He tried not to let the thought of the law threatening Dean because of him put stress on his shoulders. He and Dean were careful – he knew that. But, he knew, if Dean were to get caught, it would fall on his shoulders. He was the prostitute, and it was his job. The stress settled it’s home on his shoulders, despite.

–

Dean left the next morning, before Castiel woke and before the sun rose from behind the mountainside. Castiel woke to cold sheets, sunlight blinding his eyes, and the smell of Ellen’s breakfast cooking downstairs.

The day quickly fell into a normal routine, until about midday.

Castiel sponged himself down with cold water and dressed in his breeches and Hessians, then wrapped the softness of the scarf around his neck. The soft feathers tickled against his skin, and he tried hard to push the evil memories of it constricting around his throat away.

He tried to pray that maybe today, he would be given a break. Perhaps today he wouldn’t see icy blue eyes, or hear the slurred hiss of the man’s voice in his ear, hot, foul breath against his cheek. The thought itself sent shivers down his spine. Castiel was never that lucky, however. Unfortunately.

Castiel had his back turned when the man approached, but Castiel could feel the burning gaze through his neck, despite.

“Hello, angel,” the voice hissed into his ear from behind him.  A shiver rippled down Castiel’s spine as the hot breath tickled his ear. “Long time, no fuck.” Castiel flinched, and suddenly he felt the feathers of the scarf begin to tighten around him. It had barely been two days. “How about we catch up?”

Castiel had no real right to say no – he needed the shillings too bad. What Dean had given him saved up into a reasonable pile, but it still wasn’t enough for anything worth anyone’s while in the city. He needed all he could get – even this. He had to push back the aching fear in his gut, and he would do it. He could.

This time, the man led him up the stairs. He peeled Castiel’s clothes from his body and laid him on the bed, fingertips still rough against Castiel’s porcelain skin. The last bruises had finally faded, but new ones would soon be in their place.

It went quickly, but it felt like it lasted a thousand years. The pain slowed it down, and the ache between his legs was deep and he flinched on every thrust. The man grabbed his cock and gave it a hard, tight pump that made Castiel hold back a cry, but it broke through his gritted teeth and the man above him only grinned in satisfaction.

“Oh, how I love to see your….pain,” he slurred wetly into Castiel’s ear, “for my….pleasure,”

“Please…” broke through Castiel’s teeth, and the word ‘stop’ hung heavily in the air. The man above him picked up his pace, and Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. When the nightmare finally closed to an end, the man seethed above him: “You’re mine, and only mine. Do you understand this?”

The name Dean hung on Castiel’s tongue, but the only answer tolerated was the one the man above him wanted to hear. “Yes,” Castiel choked out, feeling the tears bite at the back of his eyes. Dean’s face flashed through his mind, and he felt the first few tears leak out of the corners of his eyes. He should have known – nothing good ever lasts for him. A month was far too long.

“Good,” the man spat, and the coins clattered to the floor as he threw them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments are very appreciated! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait and shortness of it!!

**March 31st, 1806**

Everything was too normal. Castiel hated it – the pure fear that hung deep in his gut and in the back of his mind every single day. Dean’s visits did very little to keep them at bay. The simple truth Castiel had come to realize was, every time Dean left, the unnamed man would take his place. He would erase every gentle word, every hushed moan of pleasure, every soft touch that came from Dean, and replace it with something much, much worse.

Castiel thought he could live with it. Perhaps one day the torture would end. He feared that, that one day would never come.

Today he expected Dean. It was the only thing that kept him calm as he sat in the back of the brothel, slightly hidden by it’s shadows. The scarf tickled his bare back, but it wasn’t the same sort of downy softness he’d grown to love from a month ago. It was warped by evil.

The doors of the brothel opened and Castiel perked, only barely, as his eyes flicked over to the doors. Dread washed over him, and his back tightened when the blue eyes met his. It wasn’t Dean – he was the exact opposite. Castiel worked down a swallow as he stood.

“Angel,” the man greeted, and grabbed Castiel’s elbow with his cold fingers.

The unnamed man flung him onto the bed by his arm. Castiel collapsed on the hard bed with a thud, eyes widening up at the man who slowly began to walk over, shredding another article of clothing, with a predatory look in his eyes. Castiel felt his heart jump in his throat.

When the man neared him, he grabbed Castiel’s ankle and yanked. With a yelp, Castiel was pulled to the end of the bed, and suddenly the cold fingers were shredding him of his breeches. Once they were tugged off and discarded on the floor, the man pried Castiel’s legs apart and pressed a digit into Castiel’s hole.

Castiel shivered at it’s temperature and winced when the man crooked his finger too far. He added a second, and then a third too fast. He replaced them with his dick, unprepared and unlubricated. Castiel groaned out in pain when he slid in. He felt the resistance and cried out at it. The man clawed down his sides, picking up his movements as one hand came to clasp around Castiel’s throat – too tight, cutting off his airways.

Castiel gasped, “Don’t–stop!” He pleaded hoarsely, eyes wide and scared, staring up at the man who only glared down at him.

The hand unclasped his throat, but it was no better. He hit him – hard, and Castiel’s neck whipped to the side. It stung and throbbed. Castiel sobbed – sobbed for it to end, maybe for someone to save him. Nothing happened. No one did.

It was worse this time. Castiel thought that couldn’t happen, that he could handle anything Alastair threw at him now, but he had been proved wrong.

When the man was done, he shoved a single coin in Castiel’s chest. “You don’t deserve even this, you whore,” he seethed. Castiel felt the lump form in his throat, and the tears blur over his vision, but he did not cry. He wouldn’t, not in front of this man. He let the coin fall to his hand and quietly shoved it in the pocket of his breeches once he got them back on.

He followed the man down the stairs, and the lump only seemed to grow bigger when he saw Dean sitting, waiting for him at his back table with a small glass in his hands. It was so wrong – Dean just sitting there, casual, not suspecting a single thing.

It took him a moment to realize the man was staring at him, gauging him. “Ah, is he your little love pet?” He tsked. “He doesn’t like you. None of these people do. You’re only something for them to fuck. You know that, correct?” Castiel’s eyes flicked up to the man who offered a fake, sympathetic smile as the first tear slid down Castiel’s cheek. “But you like him.” He noted.

Castiel stayed silent, but bowed his head. The man towering over him laughed bitterly.

“Such a shame.”

He continued down the rest of the stairs, but Castiel stayed on the top loft. Below, Dean glanced over to the man and frowned. Castiel watched the exchange with nervous eyes. The man walked over and met Dean half-way, giving him a hard handshake.

“Alastair,” Dean spoke, “I didn’t think you were a brothel type.”

“Surprises, surprises, my boy.”

Castiel shivered – the name suited him too well. Alastair’s eyes flicked up to Castiel. The glare made him stumble back into the shadows. Dean’s gaze followed, and he offered Alastair a goodbye before climbing the stairs himself.

When Dean reached the top of the stairs, Castiel kept his voice steady – professional. “You know that man.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” Dean nodded, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Was he here for you?”

Castiel shook his head in the darkness, the lie slipping from his lips too easily. It made him sick. “No. Maybe for someone else.” He hated lying – it had never been in his nature, but the fear that creeped up Castiel’s spine at the thought of Alastair doing something to Dean gave him the courage. He cleared his throat, and changed the subject. “You’re later than you usually are.”

Dean finally closed the gap between them and pulled Castiel into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologized softly. “For a thief, people expect me to attend a lot of parties.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a small mound of coins. “Here. S’for you.”

Castiel took them without questioning and slid them into his pocket. Dean led him into the room, but Castiel felt the bile threaten to creep up his throat at the sight of the rumpled sheets. “Perhaps – perhaps we could use another room,” Castiel stopped before he even really passed the threshold. “A change of scenery.” His eyes glanced up to Dean, who frowned and glanced around the room.

“Uh...yeah. Yeah, sure, Cas.” He backed out, and shut the creaky door behind them. Castiel led them into one of Jo’s rooms, with purple sheets instead of red, with lighter shades of wood. Castiel breathed it in and forced himself to relax. Dean came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. “You okay?”

Castiel nodded. “I’m fine.” He sounded convincing, even though fine was the last thing he could ever be in that moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a kudos and drop a comment?

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave what you thought of it in a comment, or a kudos. It would mean the entire solar system to me!!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at http://jensensperkynipples.tumblr.com/  
> the playlist (the wondrous) Dani made for this!! : https://8tracks.com/embedded-headphones/the-parting-glass
> 
> Everyone who comments and whatnot is amazing and an angel and i love you all okay


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